


Futile Devices

by britishshoe



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 09:59:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17958350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britishshoe/pseuds/britishshoe
Summary: Seunghyun always makes Jiyong feel less alone.





	Futile Devices

**Author's Note:**

> As is apparent from the title, I based this on Futile Devices by Sufjan Stevens.

* * *

Jiyong wanders aimlessly through the streets of the city, mask over his mouth and baseball cap pulled down over his eyes. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and fiddles with the lining, pilling up fuzz and flicking it to the ground. It crosses his mind that he should go home now, but he realizes immediately after having the thought that he doesn’t want that. He wraps his coat more tightly around his torso and sighs, a foggy breath entering the atmosphere. The night has become colder than he had anticipated, his pea coat not providing the insulation he needs. Jiyong is weighing his options when the obvious strikes him, causing a soft, little smile to break out on his face. The street sign in front of him tells him he’s only a couple of blocks from a familiar place, and he knows that is where he’s meant to be.He slides his mask down to pull a leather glove off with his teeth, reaching into his jacket to retrieve his cellphone. Jiyong’s cold fingers stutter on the screen, making texting too much of an event, so he gives up and makes the call.

“Hello?” He sounds so sharp around the edges, sometimes. Jiyong knows he doesn’t mean to, but anyone else could misinterpret him as rough.

“Seunghyun-ah,” he speaks lowly and sweetly, smiling as he does. “It’s me.”

“Do you know what time it is, Me?” The man on the other line jokes back, voice still gravelly from lack of use.

“That’s a bad joke,” but he was still smiling, “and it’s only like eleven thirty.”

“Some of us respect the sun’s rise and set,” Seunghyun continues lightly, making Jiyong’s eyes crease in amusement.

“I respect it, I just don’t agree,” he counters, fooling with the toggles on his coat, smoothing the material that lands just below his mid thigh. “Look, Seunghyun-ah, I really am sorry to bother you-”

“Never,” he is almost whispering, and Jiyong doesn’t know if he was meant to hear it, so he continues.

“Are you home?” His voice becomes strained as he speaks, but he blames that on the brutal air.

“Always,” this time is a bit louder, but his voice maintains the same cadence throughout. “Where would I be at this hour?”

“Some art gallery impressing women and buying things you don’t need,” Jiyong pipes back up upon clearing his throat, warming at the chuckle that he receives.

“Need is subjective, Jiyong, and as for the women,” he maintains a pause for a moment, the sound of him stretching out his body apparent over the line. “I can’t help being beautiful.”

“Shut the hell-”

“It’s because I respect the sun and sleep at a reasonable hour, by the way,” he continues over the middle of Jiyong’s outburst, laughing heavily. “Jiyong, if you want to come over, you don’t have to ask. I’m here, and I’m awake now thanks to you.”

“Who said that’s why I was calling?” He can’t be mad at the accusation, because it’s true, but he can play along.

“Jagiya,” he chuckles again, and it makes Jiyong bury his face into the collar of his coat. “I was born, but not yesterday.”

“You shouldn’t get in the habit of calling me that,” he giggles without his own consent, unable to control his nerves.

“That one will just be between us, then,” the grin on his face is palpable in each new word he says. “You know the code. I’ll see you soon.”

Jiyong hates how easily Seunghyun can read him, but his heart flutters anyway. He slips his mask back up and works his glove back on, making his way across the street. His shoes pound on the empty sidewalk as he moves a bit faster than a brisk walk, feet leaving the ground together at random intervals. It would be a lie to say that he wasn’t excited. Since he had been spending so much time in Paris or in total isolation, he only sees Seunghyun at work functions and the occasional lunches that have grown fewer and further between. He leaps eagerly up the steps of the building upon arrival, and punches in the code he knows by heart. Jiyong patters in and slides his shoes off at the entrance, looking around in the dimly lit hall. He hangs his outerwear up gingerly on a hook and tiptoes away from the door, his socks sliding on the polished hardwood.

“Seunghyun-ah?” His voice nearly fails him when he sees the man in question sitting next to the window, lit cigarette in hand. He is shirtless and in checked pajama pants, large fluffy bathrobe hanging open over the arms of the plush chair he is sat in.

“Jiyongie,” he responds nonchalantly, not unfixing his gaze from the few stars that speckle the sky. “Do you ever want to move to the countryside where they have all of the stars, all of the time?”

“I’ve never thought about it all that much,” Jiyong tilts his head in a pondering gesture, sliding his body onto the upholstered couch. “Do you think they really appreciate them in the countryside, or do they even notice?”

Seunghyun perks up at this, knocking his cigarette against a crystal ashtray with a hum of acknowledgement.

“I’m trying to quit,” he says, staring from the length of his hand to the windowsill where his ashtray rests.

“Smoking?” Jiyong has his head leaning on the arm of the couch, rolled to the side so he can still see him.

“Stargazing,” he responds blandly, inhaling his cigarette to the filter. “It makes me feel small.”

“Nothing wrong with being small,” he’s sinking further into the couch without realizing it, the great expanse of its cushions swallowing him. He closes his eyes and smiles when Seunghyun chuckles in his deep way, standing with a pop of his knees. Jiyong opens one eye to peek at him while he shuffles to the kitchen. “Your joints tell your age, even when you get all that beauty sleep.”

Seunghyun just snorts on his way to the refrigerator, retrieving two bottles of water when he arrives. He ties his robe against the chill that the open window has begun to let in, rubbing his arms with a dull yawn. His house shoes snap against his heels as he meanders his way around the kitchen island, roaming to the side of the couch. When he sees Jiyong with his eyes closed and his hands beneath his head, he can’t help but smile down at him. This doesn’t outweigh the need to mess with him, however, and he presses the cold bottle to the side of his neck.

“You ass!” he shouts as he shoots upward, feet planting on the floor with a thump.

“Don’t call me old. I’m way too nice to you, you know that?” he waggles his finger at him as he walks backwards toward the window, shutting it and latching it in one swift motion.

“I did call you beautiful too, didn’t I?” Jiyong smiles cheekily, revealing his gums in the way that Seunghyun always goes crazy for.

“I’m immune to flattery,” he responds with the furrowing of his brows, taking a long swig of his drink.

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Jiyong mimics his actions, sending him a wink over his water bottle.

“You’re incorrigible,” Jiyong is twisting back toward the window, and Seunghyun is picking up his legs to sit beneath them. “Why aren’t you home tonight, Jiyong.”

He doesn’t look at him, because he’s learned by now what effect that would have. He wants to coax him out slowly and comfortably.

“I would have to get a cab and then I’d have to listen to a speech about how much the cab driver adores me, and I just can’t take that today,” he cranes his head to catch Seunghyun in a bit of eye contact. “It’s hard to be famous.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he responds with a closed lipped smile, grabbing Jiyong by the knee and shaking him slightly. Jiyong watches him kick his feet up onto the ottoman, ditching his house shoes on the floor in front of it.

“This is like, the first time I’ve ever seen your feet,” Jiyong muses as he stares at them for a few moments.

“They’re spectacular, aren’t they,” Seunghyun says flatly, wiggling his toes a little. Jiyong knows Seunghyun hates having bare feet, especially around others, and he wonders if this is a little white flag. He wonders if Seunghyun wants him to let his guard down.

“Are you okay, Jiyong? Like really okay?” He doesn’t have to wonder anymore.

“I guess so,” he answers as honestly as he can, staring up at Seunghyun’s smooth ceiling. He waits for him to say something to no avail, sighing as he tries to organize his thoughts.

“I went out and I had dinner, and I kind of wandered around the city. And I got recognized a couple times,” he’s fiddling with the label on the bottle, and he notices Seunghyun has started lightly rubbing his leg. “It’s just like, I’m alone and I feel alone. And then someone comes up and says ‘oh my god, can I have an autograph?!’ and I oblige. And then I’m alone again.”

“Mhmm,” Seunghyun encourages him without giving his input, because he knows that’s what Jiyong needs.

“And I don’t know. I’m worried about enlisting, Seunghyun, but I’m way more worried about you. I’m gonna be totally alone when you’re gone.”

“That’s not true-”

“You know it’s not the same,” he counters before hearing his opinion. “You and I are different.”

“I know,” Seunghyun tosses his head back against the cushions, sighing deeply as if he’d been holding his breath.

“I guess truthfully I’m here because I’m already missing you,” Jiyong refuses to remove his eyes from the ceiling. He knows it becomes too real the second he looks at him.

“Well, I’m right here, Jiyong,” Seunghyun is still rubbing comforting circles on his lower thigh, letting him know they’re still grounded to this plane.

“I know,” Jiyong chirps out meekly, laughing a little shuddering laugh upward and away from the two of them. “We just don’t spend enough time together.”

“I agree with that,” Seunghyun rolls his head toward him only to see that he is crying. Without mention of this, he scoots his body over on the couch until he can wedge himself behind Jiyong and wrap his arms around him. He places his head on top of his shoulder and stamps a soft kiss behind his ear.

“Y’know, I like that you have your natural hair right now,” he murmurs into the crease between Jiyong’s neck and shoulder, causing him to giggle and shrug upwards to try to push him off.

“I like that you have yours too,” he says a little tearily, winding his fingers with Seunghyun’s as his arm drapes over his hip. “It makes you look refined.”

“Is that your nice way of calling me old again?” He places a kiss at the apex of Jiyong’s shoulder just to hear him giggle again.

“Not underhanded, Seunghyunie. Just a compliment,” Jiyong is fiddling with the fluffy rug in front of the couch, pulling the fibers upward to watch them spring back.

“Well, then I’m touched. _The_ G-Dragon thinks I look refined. Oh, and he thinks I’m beautiful too.”

“Stoooop,” he’s burying his face in his free hand when Seunghyun tightens his grip on him.

“You wanted to see me, don’t hide from me,” it’s barely above a whisper, but this time Jiyong knows he’s meant to hear it. He raises his head back up to bare his profile, squeezing his eyes shut in a smile.

“That’s better,” he snuggles into his neck affectionately and gives him another good squeeze. He spends a few minutes rubbing affectionate circles on the back of his hand with his thumb before speaking again. “Jiyong.”

“Yes, Seunghyun?”

“I am so tired,” Seunghyun bursts into an exasperated laugh upon admitting this, Jiyong giggling along with him. Jiyong shifts a bit to slide the lid of the ottoman open, leaving just enough of a gap to reach his hand in and pull out a knitted blanket. He throws it over both of their legs and snuggles back down against Seunghyun’s chest.

“Are you comfortable?” He asks from behind him, shifting his body so his neck is no longer strained against the arm of the couch.

“Yeah I feel,” Jiyong takes a moment to think of how to vocalize all of the things he feels, and can’t imagine what word suits this emotion.

“Safe,” His voice comes out kind of disembodied, his brain working on its own.

“Well if sleeping on my couch is all it takes to make you feel safe, you should do it more often,” Seunghyun kisses him again, this time on the crown of his head, and rubs his hand gently a few times back and forth over his stomach. Jiyong can’t help but giggle again, pulling Seunghyun’s hand up to kiss his knuckles.

“I’ll remember that.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m having a terrible time lately and when I had a bit of a creative pocket today I wrote this. I hope everyone likes it.


End file.
